


Cherry Pie

by bloodandcream



Series: The more the merrier [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Double Penetration, Drinking, Multi, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brothers could be the best sorts of wing men and Dean was really raring for a little sweetness tonight, a little cherry pie, a little gloss slick lips and smooth curves in his hands. Didn’t mean he didn’t want his brother any less, just wanted both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Pie

Dean settled lower on the bar stool, slumping, no where really to go but he still managed to sit more lax, bow legs spread out and one arm tossed against the bar to hold him as he ordered more shots. Sam was bitch facing next to him hard core, but a little more tequila ought to smooth out the wrinkles on his brothers face real nice.

Wasn’t like they didn’t do this every now and then, pick up a chick together, sweeten the pot with a little honey between them. Brothers could be the best sorts of wing men and Dean was really raring for a little sweetness tonight, a little cherry pie, a little gloss slick lips and smooth curves in his hands. Didn’t mean he didn’t want his brother any less, just wanted both.

Tossing back a shot that burned from the back of his tongue all the way down to his stomach and he knew it would burn it’s way to his ass tomorrow, Dean waggled his eyebrows and encouraged Sam to toss back. Course Sam would. Sam always did, he listened well. There was enough of a flush on his cheeks to indicate he was pretty well gone that Dean felt comfortable in straying, seeking out a third.

Wasn’t too hard to pick up chicks in this sort of place, most guys thought you couldn’t really pick up girls that did this for a living, but girls that took their clothes off for money had all kinda issues or just plain old kinks or just bare bones societal boundaries that a little charm from a pretty face and usually a bit of green could go a long long way.

Dean kept having shots ordered and delivered to Sam. They’d had a good haul a few states backs and there were plenty of bills in his pocket. Easy come, easy go. Eventually he settled on the edge of the stage watching mostly naked chicks swinging on poles and grinding their hips, loose and easy with liquor, ribs aching from where he was slammed into a grave the other night but the pains in his body just made him more present. Waving a few fives, a pretty little thing swayed his way, breasts bare, small but perky, puffed pink nipples and lines of ribs on her scanty frame, but she had a sweet smile and knowing eyes.

The girl pinched the ribbon fringes of her g string between manicured nails, pulling till it slipped the knots free, letting it fall and she was naked down to her garter holding in her wages and the high high shoes that firmed the muscles of her legs. Crooking her finger at Dean, short brown hair falling in messy curls, she leaned over and told him to turn around, head back against the stage, and put one of his bills on his mouth.

Dean knew, for a long time, you always listen to strippers, just go with it. Swiveling on his stool, catching Sam in the corner of his sight with a shot halfway to pink lips, Dean winked at his brother and settled the bill on his face look up at the stripper. Silver heels on either side of his face she stood right above him, exposed, shaved smooth pink folds glistening with sweat as she crouched over his face, the smell of her in his nose and the smooth of her thighs against his cheeks and she pulled her legs wide before squeezing her cunt and the bill was trapped in her labia when she stood up again, sauntering away from him with a cock to her hips and a twist to her lips.

Dean was smitten. He didn’t use that word much, but damn, props for ingenious ways to get money off him. Sam was there. Right next to him, looking somewhere between turned on and vaguely pissed.

Dean just grinned, smacked his brother between the jut of wide shoulder blades, pulling another fiver out for his brother. He made Sam wave the girl over, boy needed to get more used to girls anyway, get used to things that weren’t sweet and slow and normal, cause Sam was never gonna get that, didn’t have the time for that anymore, he needed to learn how to do it like this. There wasn’t gonna be any long term in Sammy’s future anymore.

But that was okay. There were plenty of girls could be lured in by the mysterious dangerous lone vagrant charm, plenty of whores to be bought, plenty of trail park thing with daddy issues. Dean was just being a good brother, a wing man.

They spent their time there, spent other people’s money now theirs hard won through scams, among neon lights flashing and women with tired faces and plastered on smiles, more liquor to forget who they were, made up stories, above all else places like this sold made up stories. And it was so so easy.

Later that night Dean was stretched out straight on a cheap motel bed, the fugly floral pattern comforter still tucked in so neat and tight underneath him, hands fixed on the swaying hips of the brunette curly haired stripper on top of his lap. He could watch Sammy like this, over her shoulder, one of his broad sasquatch hands curled round her waist holding her tight against the dip between small breasts, pulling her back. Sam watched Dean the whole time, always did, slanted hazel eyes questioning and alcohol hazed.

Her snatch was so tight with how thick Sam was in her ass, barely enough room for both of them to move together, so Dean just lay back and let Sam jostle her on top of his cock. Calloused hands cupping her breasts, nipples rolled between finger tips, second nature. But he was watching Sam, stupid long hair falling in his eyes, fingers flexing, one hand finding Dean’s hips and bracing.

Sam was still on his bed, long after she had gone, after they had done the perfunctory clean up, after they had a few snacks, and after Dean had laughed about it like a guy. Sam was still there, still had sweat on his tan skin, boxers low on tapered waist, skin taught, stretched out next to Dean. But she was gone. And Dean didn’t have enough alcohol to keep on touching his brother.


End file.
